Man's Best Friend
by Cheryl W
Summary: Tag to "Time for a Wedding." Taking care of himself isn't something that comes naturally to Dean. Good thing he's not as alone as he thinks he is.  No Slash


Man's Best Friend

Author: Cheryl W.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dean, Sam or any rights to Supernatural, nor am I making any profit from this story.

Author Note: Tag to episode "Time for a Wedding". And I'm an animal lover so…well, keep that in mind as you read this tale.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean held out as long as he could after Sam's declaration that he had his little brother's permission, no mandate to take care of himself, to make that his priority one. Bore his brother's small encouraging smile but wilted under Sam's shifting expression, an expression that first went to worry and then did the full-fledged pity thing. Like Sam knew that his big brother didn't have a clue how to take care of himself, to be selfish.

With Sam watching him, wearing that look for hours, Dean knew that when Sam opened his mouth it was time to make his move.

"Hey, since I'm off the clock, thought I'ld head to the next state over, catch a concert," he announced, saw Sam's startled then pleased look and felt like a heel for the fib.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah!" Sam adopted his enthusiastic, I'm-so-not-worried tone.

And it had been easy, picking a band that Sam didn't even know, let alone that half the members were in and out of rehab and their concerts had been cancelled for the month. He was out the door before Sam could grill him more.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

The road wasn't the same without his baby. He knew the Impala's reaction time, the feel of her tires on all types of terrain, the growl of her cherished engine. The car he maneuvered down the highway now, she might be of the same era as the Impala but she would never be of the same class.

Course that didn't stop her from catching the eye of a small town's drag racing star. The challenge was issued at one of the town's few red lights. And without Sam there to give him that jaw clenching, disapproving glare, Dean smiled and reached across the distance between the other man and grabbed the directions to the unofficial race track.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

It didn't take Dean long to know he had gotten played, that the kid knew every treacherous curve of the roads coiling around the mountain top. Kid almost put him into a guard rail, didn't seem all too concerned if he managed to heave ho him over the guardrail to the hundred yard drop he could see just beyond the white line. But even so, he and his temporary ride weren't ones to back down, gunned it on the straight stretch. He still cringed as the left side of the car scraped against the mountain on the latest turn, would be apologizing to his baby in another situation. And realizing that, it gave him freedom he had never had before.

This car, it was just something else that he didn't have to protect, to worry about. He could total her and there'd be no guilt to it. Could drive her right off the cliff and his last thought wouldn't be '_sorry baby, miscalculated.' _

Pressing his foot down on the gas, he surged past the kid's 2011 ride, took the next turn on two wheels, heck it might have been one. Let out a hoot of enjoyment as he came out of the turn still in the lead, purposefully cut the kid off, didn't care that the maneuver put him on a fast paced collision with an outcropping of rockface. Swerving right, he chuckled as the passenger mirror came clean off.

It was freedom the likes he had never felt before. Like he could keep going or he could quit and it wouldn't matter. It was his choice. His and his alone. The Leviathans had the time to cultivate their end game, might decide to only unveil it a hundred years down the road. His job, it was what Sam had said it was: To not worry about Sam, to take care of himself…in any fashion he wanted to.

He let the kid pace him, enjoyed the neck and neck tension, so they came out of the hair pin turn wheel base to wheel base. The kid never even hit the brakes for the dog that darted out in their path. But Dean stood on the brakes, knew that it would be a miracle if Rover wasn't under his tire tread. Laying down a hundred feet of rubber burns on the pavement, the car finally rocked to a halt.

Heart pounding, Dean threw the car in park and flew out the door, looked behind him, swallowed hard at the furry mound on the pavement. "Crap," he wheezed as he ran for the dog, prayed that it wasn't some little kid's pride and joy he had just killed. Even before he was at the dog's side, the black mutt raised its head as if he was wondering how long he was going to have to wait until the buffoon that ran over him showed up with his insurance papers.

Hanging his head in relief that the dog was still kicking, Dean walked the rest of the distance and crouched down beside the dog. The dog rested its head back onto the pavement but its eyes remained fixed on him. Doing a visual scan, Dean didn't see any blood or outward signs of injury on the canine. Hoped that the dog would just get up, be fine and be on his merry way. But the dog, though he was conscious and attentive, wasn't getting up.

Dean didn't make a move to touch the animal. Dogs and him, well they had history. Bite me, claw my guts out and send me to Hell history. It kinda put a damper on the 'man's best friend' line. "No offense but …I'm not really a dog guy," he said aloud, knew he was talking to an animal but he had made small talk with a lot weirder things. The dog tilted his head as if he was laying an accusation. Dean held up his hands, "Whoa, I'm not saying I hit you on purpose! Dude, you ran in front of me. Not only me but also the Speed Racer wanna be. If anyone was in the wrong, pal, it was so you."

In answer, the dog gave a whimper of pain as it moved its paw, a bent paw he lightly tapped against Dean's thigh. Heart rending, Dean sighed and tentatively reached out his hand, stroked the paw. The dog whimpered at the light touch. "Alright boy, alright. Let's get off the highway before we're both pancaked." With gentleness, Dean slid his hands under the dog and pulled him into his arms as he came to his feet. Crossing the distance to his car, he slid into the open doorway and settled the unresisting animal into the passenger section of the bench seat.

Slamming the car door, he almost jumped when something settled on his thigh, looked down to see that the dog had shimmed across the bench seat and was now resting his head on Dean's leg. Hand raised above the furry head it took Dean a moment to finally decide to stroke the dog's soft fur. The dog contently snuggled down more firmly on Dean's leg.

Finding himself shaking his head and smiling, he put the car in motion, said aloud, to the car and maybe to the dog. "Wait until I tell Sam he's been replaced by a dog."

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Certain that if he could patch up his little brother, he could play vet on a hairier version, Dean brought the mutt back to his motel. With a reassuring pat on the dog's head, he slid his leg out from the canine's snout and went to open the motel room door, didn't think he wanted to juggle the dog and try to unlock the door at the same time. Swinging open the door, he turned around to head back to his car and his patient, stood there stunned as the dog, healthy as can be, loped right by him into the room, jumped up on the bed and flounced down on his pillow.

It was then that Dean knew he had been had by a pro.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

The dog didn't listen to verbal commands but Dean didn't believe for a second that the hound didn't know exactly what he was saying, that words like "faker" "off the bed furyball" and "go" weren't registering with his con-man…well, con- pooch. The dog only put his ears down like he knew he was being scolded but didn't move an inch, unless it was to burrow under the covers like he was settling in for the night.

Dean even went so far as to start to pick the dog up but the dog gave a pitful whimper not of pain but plea and gave him the imploring look Sam had perfected. "Don't look at me that way." In response the dog licked his face.

"Oh, yuck!" Dean groused, dropping the dog to the bed and using his jacket sleeve to wipe the slobber off his cheek. Pointing a finger at the dog, he ordered, "One more unwanted advance like that and I'm giving you the safe word, dude. And trust me when I tell you, you won't like it." The dog's tail happily wagged at the silver lining he detected in the warning.

"I'm taking a shower so don't touch anything while I'm gone. We clear?" Dean spoke to the dog who simply sat there watching him, tail waging. Waving a dismissing hand at the dog's lack of agreement, Dean headed into the bathroom. Didn't think that his first night with his new freedom would include a four legged con artist. With the worst breath known to man or beast.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

The steam from the shower leaked into the room as Dean exited the bathroom sporting his night attire of sweat pants and t-shirt. His bunkmate was right where he left him, atop his bed looking all the world like a well-satisfied king of the realm. "Comfy huh? Well enjoy it 'cause tomorrow we're parting ways," Dean announced, as he headed to his clothing duffle bag. A bag that had a friggin' hole in it and was leaking liquid. Liquor to be exact, the same liquor that was gurgling out of the broken bottle on the floor.

"No, no, no…" Dean muttered as he rummaged through the bag only to discover that even his reserve bottle hadn't been spared, was broken. He cut himself on the shard edges, adding injury to insult. Pulling his hand back with a hiss, he watched as the blood dripped from the long gash down his pointer finger. " Son of a…" he growled, turning to the only possible suspect, a suspect that was attentively sitting up on the bed, gave a surprising sharp bark as if he was the pissed party.

"Cujo, you just wore out your welcome…" Dean threatened, took a menacing step toward the dog. But instead of fearing the man, the dog came right over to the edge of the bed and rested his head on Dean's leg and looked up at him almost with open adoration. "Don't try and charm me…" Dean cautioned, wasn't ready to forgive and forget, not when the furryball had just wiped out his entire liquor supply.

The dog gave a friendly bark and nuzzled his snout into Dean's shirt, as if he were begging for forgiveness. And Dean crumbled, was a big ole softie at heart. Holding up one finger at the dog, he set the ground rules. "That's strike one, pal. Two more strikes and I'm finding the closest doggy penitentiary." He accepted the happy bark as agreement to terms as explained.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Laying on the bed, Dean watched the low budget monster flick as he stroked the dog's head, a head that was contently resting on his gut. He narrated the film for the dog's benefit only. "See they don't know about silver, that torching him, it's only gonna get him more pissed than he already is." A few more scenes later, he sighed, pointed out, "See," as said monster went on an enraged killing spree. "Kill him, don't make 'em mad. That's a fine line, trick of the trade. Course if you can't kill them, my motto is to at _least_ make them mad."

A man's voice from the outside walkway rang though the room. "Helen, I know you're in there! You think I don't know where you go, who you're with!" Then the sound of a fist pounding on a door vibrated in the air, a door that wasn't Dean's. "I'm not leaving Helen, not until you come out and face me, admit what you're doing!"

A meek male voice gave a reply. "Wrong room." But the pounding became more insistent, seemed to be taken up by a booted foot.

"Don't lie anymore! You want to end things, than get out here, tell me yourself!"

"I'm telling you, no Helen is in here. You have the wrong room."

"We'll see about that…" and then wood splitting echoed into Dean's room, followed by a woman's scream. Then another kick resounded against the wooden door.

Coming off the bed, Dean was out the door in two second, saw that the jealous drunk was determined to kick in his next door neighbor's door. "Whoa, dude. Sounds like you got the wrong room…" he placated as he approached, hands raised in the air in a non-threatening way. "Lady in there, she sound like Helen?"

"Stay out it!" the man spat, spittle hitting the ground as his liquor addled body refused to perform its normal functions to the level it was supposed it. Like not swaying when one stood still.

"I'm not Helen, sir,," A trembling female voice spoke from behind the door.

The drunk didn't take the proof that was handed to him, bellowed, "You having a party in there Helen! An orgy!" he raged, sending a kick that actually knocked the door in.

As the mean drunk took a step toward the room's entrance, Dean intervened, grabbed the man by the arms and shoved him backwards. Then Dean took a stance in the doorway, proving that the man had to get through him to enter the room. "Helen's not in there so why don't you go home, make a nice pot of coffee and call your girl."

He didn't expect the man to be so quick, to be so coordinated. He sure as heck didn't expect to see the glint of sliver catch on the moonlight, arch through the air, aim for his stomach. It was like things slowed down, that he saw the knife blade coming, knew that he wasn't going to be quick enough to get out of its path. That Sam would realize that, giving his big brother the job of taking care of his own butt, it had been a mistake, a colossal one. Well, unless Sam wanted freedom too, wanted to permanently ditch his nagging, shadowing big brother once and for all. That Freedom was the new Winchester motto.

Then the drunk went down as a flying, snarling, furry small body pounced onto his chest. Snarled in the drunk's face, whose breath probably even beat the dog's. Then other people were on the scene and the motel clerk was there, asking if Dean would call off his dog. _His_ dog.

Amused at that notion, Dean snorted. Like the dog would listen to him. "Heel, Rocky," he mockingly said. But his mouth dropped open as the dog instantly calmed, jumped off the drunk's chest and came to a loyal stance beside him. Cemented his loyalty shtick by laying down right where he was and letting his chin rest on Dean's bare foot.

Dean didn't even watch as the drunk was manhandled to his feet and shuffled to the office to await the arrival of the police. Stood there looking down at the mutt at his feet. The mutt that had most likely saved him from getting gutted. "I'll be darned." Bending down, he scratched the top of the dog's head. "You're the furriest guardian angel I've ever had…" A sad smile played on his lips as he thought of the dog's predecessor, an angel that he had loved like a brother. Who was gone and wasn't coming back. "But sorry, Rocky, the best of the best you'll never be." Then he stood up and dog and man entered their room. "But you have the same person space issues…." Dean grumbled as the dog joined him on the bed, this time putting his wet snout right under his chin.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Dean didn't even remember falling asleep, didn't wake even one time with his usual nightmare cyclorama playing in his head. Hadn't felt so rested since…heck he didn't know when as he opened his eyes, blinked against the sunlight streaming into the room. Almost moved before he remembered the weight on his chest, it wasn't just blanket. Looking down, he found the dog sprawled out on his back, legs in the air, floppy ears laying on his chest. "Rise and shine, sweetheart," Dean greeted and the dog rolled free, shook his head and then jumped off the bed, pawed the door to be left outside.

Stumbling out of bed, Dean crossed the room and opened the door but the dog looked up at him, almost in indecision. "You asking for my permission to go to the bathroom, you got it." And as if that was exactly what the canine was waiting on, the dog tore outside immediately, searched out the grass beside the parking lot.

SNSNSNSNSNSNSN

Packing the last of his possessions, Dean slammed the trunk and eyed the dog at his feet. Crouching down, he stroked the dog. "Well, boy, we knew this day would come." He got a doggy kiss and then the dog trotted into the parking lot but stopped a few feet away, turned around and tilted his head as he assessed Dean. "Go make me proud, buddy," Dean encouraged, giving a wave of his hands. But still the dog remained, appeared almost indecisive.

Dean startled as his phone rang. Pulling it out of his pocket, he answered, "Yeah," and his brother's voice filtered through the cell lines.

"When I said you could take care of yourself, Dean, that didn't mean you should tell me some cock and bull story, disappear for days and turn off your cellphone."

"Aw, is Sammy getting lonely…." Dean taunted, gave a wink to the dog who had ensured that he had not fallen victim to that malady.

"If you want the truth…then yeah, Dean. So…turn that blue bombshell toward home already," and there was need in his brother's tone, and unmitigated affection.

'_Home_.' The word hit Dean heart deep. Even the makeshift homes that he usually claimed weren't options anymore. Not Bobby's house since it went up in flames and not the Impala since it was on lockdown. No, the only home he had left…was Sam, was the ties that somehow, by some miraculous gift were still intact, still meant something to Sam, maybe even as much as they meant to Dean.

"Well, since you're about to cry, I guess I can cut my trip short," Dean joked, smiled as his brother's laughter soothed all the jagged edges that his unwanted freedom had carved into him.

"If that's what you need to tell yourself," Sam scoffed, laughter still carrying in his tone. "And don't bother stopping for pie…they were running a special at the store so we're stocked up."

"Sammy, I love you, dude," Dean oozed, mouth already salivating at the thought of a pie waiting for him.

"So you didn't find a replacement for me, huh?" Sam joked back, but there was a thread of serious intent in the question.

Looking at the dog, Dean told his brother, "A replacement, no, but I wasn't alone, someone had my back. But I think he's got his own path to travel."

"Another hunter?" Sam asked, confusion and a slice of possessiveness in his tone.

"Let's just say another fellow traveler on the road of life," Dean hedged, gave the dog a two fingered salute of gratitude. Then, as if he was finally satisfied that his charge was going to be OK without him, the mutt turned tail and trotted off.

"Dean, you're not making a lot of sense. Are you alright?" Concern lacing his brother's tense voice.

"I'm good, Sammy. I'm real good," Dean admitted as he climbed into the car and started the engine and found he meant it. Understood what Sam had wanted to give him, that it wasn't freedom from his family, it was the knowledge that he had value, even without hunting, even to someone other than his brother, that he was fine on his own with only the companionship of a rogue mutt with a guardian angel complex. That Dean Winchester, he wasn't just a hunter, wasn't just Sammy Winchester's brother, he was a dog wrangling, good Samaritan who stopped drunks and was even a guy who Sam missed enough to bribe home with a stockpile of pies.

"Then see you soon, right?" Sam asked, an entreaty in the question.

"With pies waiting for me, I'll be there before we hung up," Dean joked as he ended the conversation, knew that it wasn't the pies that were calling him home. That he fit somewhere, that though his guardian angels came in the form of tall little brothers and furry canines these days, he knew that he wouldn't be there at all if it hadn't been for Cas. If Cas hadn't taken his Guardian Angel duties to the limit and past, hadn't given his life to once again save his charge's.

"Where ever you are Cas, thanks…" Dean said aloud, prayed that his best friend had found peace somewhere, that wherever he was, he had someone looking out for him…even if they came on four legs.

Snsnsnsnsnsnn

Epilogue….

SNSNSNSNSNSN

No one noticed the dog that trotted down the sidewalk, came to heel beside a set of black shoes, watched the blue classic car turn onto the highway and drive the other direction. And no one saw the trench coat clad man watching the car and the man inside leave him behind, detected the anguish in the blue eyes. But the perceptive dog barked, nudged the back of the man's leg, urged him to move, to stop the car. But the dark haired, blue eyed man didn't budge, stood stock still and watched his best friend disappear out of sight.

"I can't…" the man gravely replied to the dog.

To which the dog bark in rapid succession.

But the man shook his head sadly. "He won't want to see me. How can I expect him to forgive me…"

The dog answered with more barking and a gesture that , where the Angel came from, might have been a smile appeared on Cas' face.

"Dean doesn't respond well to quoted scriptures." Then the Angel's mirth faded, turned to shame and regret. "And I have not right to speak them, especially after what I did. To Sam…to him."

He looked down at the dog as his companion asked him a question.

"I wanted you to be with him because I couldn't be, because he needed someone to protect him."

The dog tilted his head and Cas adopted a faraway look. "Yes, protect him from his own actions…and drunks..and from me."

The dog seemed to protest the last but Cas held up his hand, silenced his companion. "Sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is to leave them."

At the dog's barking retort, Cas looked again to the road that Dean Winchester had disappeared down. "Sam is Dean's family. They belong together…"

The dog made another reply that had his friend staring down at him with stunned surprise, "Of course I would help Dean if he needed me."

And Cas wasn't sure how to answer his friend's next question, ended up asking himself that question, had it running through his head on a loop. '_How will I know if Dean needs me if I'm too scared to remain close to his side?_' But he knew one thing, no matter what had happened, all that he had done and even though Dean, with every right, hated him now, Cas' self-assigned job was as it had always been. He took care of Dean Winchester when the man refused to take care of himself. And in his heart, Cas knew that, if he had to get close to Dean in order to perform that duty, he would do that. That he would face Dean's wrath and his disappointment, would do whatever he had to do because being a Guardian Angel, being a best friend, was worth all that had come before and all the heartbreak that lay ahead.

SNSNSNSNSN

THE END

SNSNSNSNSN

Hope you enjoyed this little tale. I just believe that God sometimes uses animals to cheer us up and sometimes even to steer us on the right path. I guess I've watched too many animal true stories or Lassie tales?

Have a great day!

Cheryl W.


End file.
